


Courage Calls (To Courage Everywhere)

by sevtacular



Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Coffee, F/F, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:41:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29761167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/pseuds/sevtacular
Summary: The moment History teacher Serena Campbell first meets Languages NQT Bernie Wolfe, there's an instant spark between them. They soon fall into an easy friendship fuelled by weekend outings and numerous coffees (in mugs of varying levels of tastefulness). It's a friendship like neither of them have had before and they both long for it to become more. Consumed with fear of ruining everything they have, it will take a long time before they can summon the courage to admit how they feel.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 26
Kudos: 75





	Courage Calls (To Courage Everywhere)

**Author's Note:**

> Who me? Write a teacher AU? When there's already several Berena teacher AUs in existence? Absolutely.
> 
> Everyone loves a teacher AU, right? I hope so because I love a teacher AU. This one features meddling Fleur, idiots to lovers and some other highly cliched tropes. It also features some of the most fabulous/horrendous* mug and festive knitwear designs I could come up with (*depends on how much taste you have).

Serena exhales slowly, glaring at the stack of marking which never seems to get any smaller. Why did she choose History, of all things? The subject which is arguably known for having long essays and coursework. Why didn’t she choose to become a Maths teacher? At least then something is either right or wrong. A memory of covering John Gaskell’s GCSE lower set the week previously creeps into her mind. Just _what_ is a _surd_ , for heaven’s sake? Serena shudders at the memory and looks at her display on the wall opposite the window, sees the summaries of the Civil Rights Acts. That’s much more fun. Not the marking though. Perhaps another coffee is necessary.

She arrives in the staffroom to see a tall blonde woman at the kettle, a spoon balanced precariously on the edge of her mug. The mug has a large green cartoon cactus wearing a Santa hat on it with the words FELIZ NAVIDAD printed across in an offensive shade of neon orange. Raising an eyebrow, Serena realises that this must be Ms Wolfe, the new languages teacher.

Serena knows of Ms Wolfe, of course she does. All the staff had been present when at the start of the year Henrik had proudly welcomed Ms Wolfe, NQT and former officer in Her Majesty’s Armed Forces to Holby City Academy. At the time Serena was more bothered about checking that her wall display hadn’t fallen down _(if only they were allowed to use staplers!)_ than checking out the newest member of staff.

Now though she has the perfect chance to get to know the former soldier as the woman in question has turned to look at her, eyebrows raised questioningly and a custard cream wedged between her teeth as she holds the now-boiled kettle up.

“Sorry!” Serena shakes her head to snap herself out of her thoughts and places her cup (a much less garish number featuring the phrase WORLD’S BEST TEACHER in capital letters) down onto the counter.

The woman shakes her head and, after putting the kettle down, pulls the custard cream from her mouth.

“Don’t worry about it. I suspect there’s lots going on in the head of the world’s best teacher.” She smiles to show she’s joking and holds out a hand.

“Bernie Wolfe, MFL NQT.”

“Serena Campbell, B.A. and M.Ed. but not MFL NQT.” Serena winks at the other woman, unsure what caused her to make such a silly comment but feeling better for saying it. It’s been a day with little laughs. Bernie guffaws loudly.

“You’re History, right?”

Putting a hand to her chest and releasing a mock gasp, Serena fights back a laugh as she responds.

“History? Oh Ms Wolfe, it’s a shame for you to end us when we’ve only just started.” Bernie blushes at this and Serena realises she may have crossed a line with her flirtatious remark. Normally she only reserves comments like that for her close friends Fleur (head of English) and Sian (former Law and Politics teacher at Holby City Academy who has since become the assistant head of a local grammar school). Bernie recovers herself and gestures to Serena’s mug.

“In that case, have you time for a custard cream with your coffee, Ms Campbell? I’d rather like to take the opportunity to see what I can learn from the _world’s best teacher.”_

Serena sighs.

“I’d love to, I really would. But I’ve got a stack of essays on my desk which won’t mark themselves, unfortunately. Maybe another time though?”

Bernie nods understandingly and, as Serena turns to go, she feels something slip into her pocket. Looking down, Serena sees it’s the rest of the packet of custard creams.

“For the road.” Bernie says from behind her, offering a salute as she leaves.

Back in her classroom, Serena finds the essays a little easier to mark than she did earlier.

-

Not a week later, Serena is assigned to cover a French lesson during her free period. She never truly enjoys providing cover but it comes with the job. She prefers French to German or Spanish though; at least she can speak that language to an extent. She’s managing to get some of her Year 7 History books marked whilst the class complete their textbook activities when she notices that this should be Bernie’s class. She could swear she saw the woman first thing this morning buying a coffee in the school canteen, she hopes she’s not suddenly taken ill.

Later, when the bell has gone, she sticks her head around the door of the small office which the languages teachers share.

“Is, um, is everything okay with Ms Wolfe?” She asks.

“Hopefully,” Mo Effanga responds. “She got a call just after break saying her son had been in a car accident so she’s had to dash to the hospital.”

“Goodness me,” Serena says, well aware how scary that can feel after her own daughter’s near-miss a couple of years ago. “I hope he’s okay.”

Serena goes home that night and wishes she had Bernie’s number so she could message her and offer her some support.

Instead, she gets into school early the next day and places a brown paper bag in the languages office with Bernie’s name on.

-

A quiet knock on her classroom door after the final bell of the afternoon causes Serena to look up. In the doorway is Bernie, a gentle smile on her face.

“How’s your son?” Serena asks.

“Nothing more than a couple of cuts and bruises and a stern telling off for getting in a car knowing the driver was over the limit. Can I repay you for the pain au chocolat by making you a coffee?” She asks. Serena beams.

“Of course! The perfect way to end a long Friday afternoon. Would you mind knocking on the History office and asking Raf or Arthur to give you my mug? I just need to finish inputting these assessment grades onto the system then I’m all yours.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth Serena can feel herself blushing. Luckily, Bernie has already offered another of her little salutes before disappearing along the corridor. Forcing herself to input the assessment scores before the languages teacher returns, Serena pushes all thoughts about how pretty the other woman is to the back of her mind.

Bernie returns twenty minutes later with her own garish cactus mug, Serena’s much more tasteful mug and a packet of biscuits tucked under her arm. Placing the items down on one of the desks, she pulls up a chair and points at Serena’s mug.

“No longer the world’s best teacher, hmm?”

“Oh I most definitely am,” Serena winks. “But it was my birthday last week and Raf decided that this was a good choice of gift for me. I have to say,” she pauses, taking a sip of the coffee (strong and hot, praise be, the woman makes a good coffee) “I rather agree with him. Back in the day I did write my undergraduate dissertation on the representation of the fine lady and her comrades in media through time.”

She places the mug back down on the desk. The drawing of Emmeline Pankhurst stares determinedly at them, the bold text in green, white and purple claiming DON’T MESS WITH ME a clear message (for both students and other staff members, Serena thinks).

Bernie nods impressively, slurping at her own drink.

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you. I have to say, I watched a documentary about the topic a few months back now and it was really interesting.”

“Well if you want to know more I have a lot of books and other TV recommendations. Or you could sit in on my Year 8 lessons on Women’s Suffrage. You could join in and make your own knowledge fact-file as we go through the topic and learn all about everything from the difference between suffragists and suffragettes to the roles women played during the war years.”

“Sadly I think I’ll likely be busy teaching my own classes how to count in Spanish and how to properly structure a sentence in German,” Bernie responds. “It sounds like you love teaching it though so I’ve no doubt the kids will enjoy it.”

“Oh I do,” Serena beams. “The Modern World aspects of the curriculum are some of my most favourite. What about you – which language is your favourite?”

“French.” Bernie answers instantly. “It’s the one which I first got taught in school which opened the door to other languages for me. But then lots of languages all have their beautiful parts so I love them all, really.”

“How many do you speak?” Serena asks, curiosity piqued. She knows that most language teachers need to be confident in at least two but it sounds as if Bernie has a few under her belt.

“Fluently I speak English, French and Spanish but I have a good conversational grasp in German, Portuguese, Dari, Ukrainian and Swahili. I’m also currently trying to learn Mandarin Chinese and Russian.”

Serena gapes.

“Bernie… How many languages does one woman need?!” Serena is slightly in awe at how casually the woman mentions her multilingual abilities. No wonder Henrik snapped her up. The languages teacher shrugs.

“I like languages. I find it helps when you’re travelling to be able to pick things up and communicate with people on their own terms. It also fills the evenings, gives me something to focus on when I’m not marking or planning.”

Serena places her empty mug down on her desk and leans forward.

“It’s very impressive.” She lets her voice drop a register. “What a clever tongue you have, Ms Wolfe.”

Picking up her mug, Serena winks at Bernie and saunters out of the classroom, leaving the other teacher frozen to the spot, mind whirring at the thought that Serena Campbell may just be flirting with her.

-

The following Monday Serena arrives into the whole school staff meeting and has been sat down for barely twenty seconds before two pieces of hot buttered toast atop a stack of napkins are placed before her. Looking up, she cannot help but smile at her gift-giver.

“Joyeux anniversaire for the other week,” Bernie pauses, a mischievous grin threatening to split across her face. “I was going to stick candles in but figured there might be too many to fit in a slice of toast.”

Taking one of the napkins and swatting at her new friend, Serena acts affronted.

“You cheeky mare!”

Bernie simply smirks smugly and saunters off to sit with the rest of her department, leaving Serena to enjoy her toast in peace.

-

Serena walks into the bistro in Holby City Centre just as it reaches 2pm on Saturday. She glances round and beams when she sees who is already sat in a seat in the far corner. After ordering herself a coffee and some soup, she makes her way over and settles herself down.

“Long time, no see.” Her companion raises an eyebrow and leans forward. “I seem to have been replaced by a certain dashing ex-soldier who can offer you more than the full English.” Fleur winks to show she’s teasing and Serena flushes.

“Of course you’ve not been replaced! I’ve known you since I started at Holby City Academy and who else is going to match me glass for glass at the staff Christmas party every year?”

Fleur laughs in response and pours herself some tea from the pot she’d ordered.

“And as your closest friend at the school, you would tell me about you and the Werewolfe…” She trails off as Serena interrupts.

“The _who?!”_

“The Werewolfe. Just my affectionate little name for our new macho madame over in MFL.” Fleur purses her perfectly red lips. “Anyway, you’re deflecting. How long have you and she been…” She leaves her sentence hanging. Serena knows full well what she means but needs to stall for time, unsure how to respond. Because of course she’s noticed how gorgeous Bernie is and yes, okay, she might have spent more than the occasional evening pondering _what if_. But for Fleur to assume they’re together? It’s absurd.

“How long have we been… friends?” Serena hopes Fleur will drop the subject. She should know better.

“More than friends. Romeo and Julietting. Sharing moonlight exchanges. _Rustling thy boughs and setting thy trunk all bare.”_

“You’ve been teaching English far too long. Even I know that’s got to be a line in one of the GCSE poems,” Serena says affectionately.

“Very good, my darling. It’s a nod to Sonnet 29 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, actually.” Fleur says.

“Kindly keep your stanzas and metaphors to your Year 11s, please.” Serena retorts. “I’ve got more than enough on my plate trying to persuade my GCSE students that the Weimar Republic is actually something important they need to study.”

“Maybe you should consider getting a German teacher to help you. Someone you’re already close to perhaps…” Fleur grins at Serena’s look of discomfort now the topic has returned to a certain NQT. “Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Fleur admonishes. “I saw you in staff meeting, flicking her with your napkin and spending the entirety of Hanssen’s presentation giving her heart eyes across the room.”

“I was not!” Serena says a little too quickly. Immediately realises her mistake as her friend grins like a lion about to go in for the kill.

“Of course not, Serena darling. If it helps, I happen to know she’s single.”

“How?”

“I asked Doris. Turns out he and the Werewolfe have formed quite a little friendship.”

“Bernie and Dom Copeland?” Serena personally can’t see what Bernie would have in common with the flamboyant drama teacher.

“Yes indeed. Apparently he approached the language department about getting some coaching for the students starring in his production of _Les Mis._ Bernie offered to help them with their French accents and she and Dom became firm friends.”

“I see. And just what would her being single have to do with me? It doesn’t mean she’s going to be interested. If I was interested, that is.” She adds quickly. Fleur smiles fondly.

“Serena darling, that woman set my gaydar off the moment she set foot in the school. She wears _waistcoats_ , for goodness’ sake.”

The rest of their catch-up is spent laughing with one another and comparing notes on the pupils they share. But, in the back of her mind, Serena is already beginning to consider even more _what ifs._

-

Serena is just about managing to hold things together. She’s had a devil of a day so far: her most boisterous Year 7 class first thing, followed by her lower ability GCSE group, covering a PE lesson (and an outdoor one, at that) and now, during her lunch hour, the photocopier isn’t working. She needs these worksheets for her after school revision class but, no matter how many times she curses it, the blasted machine won’t work.

“What part of I need my sheets today are you struggling to understand?” Serena hisses at the grey box of wasted lunch hours.

“Has it been growling or whining?” A voice behind her causes her to whirl round, embarrassed at having been caught talking to an inanimate object. Luckily, Bernie just continues to walk towards her. “Any intermittent smell of hot or burning paper?”

“Define intermittent,” Serena fires back, her mood brightening upon seeing the languages teacher.

“It’s probably a paper jam,” Bernie says, bending down to pop open a compartment on the side of the machine. Sure enough, she manages to extract a crumpled stack of coloured paper. “Someone’s tried to use the wrong thickness of paper in the machine. Not all photocopiers are able to handle different paper types. Really people should check before just attempting something like this.” She presses the copy button and the machine instantly whirrs back into life, spitting history revision worksheets out at a rapid rate.

“Thank you,” Serena smiles. “Photocopier technician and languages teacher. How many hidden talents can one woman have?”

“It’s nothing,” Bernie waves her off. “I got good at fixing things in the army and, well… Photocopiers are nowhere near a tank.”

“You can drive a tank?” Serena says, slightly breathless.

“I can. Tell you what, if I ever need to go back to my old training ground, I’ll invite you along and you can have a go.”

Picking up her sheets, Serena taps Bernie’s chest with them.

“Thanks again, I owe you a coffee.”

-

It’s Serena who goes to find Bernie this time, armed with a jar of strong coffee and some custard creams she picked up in M&S. Sticking her head around the door of the classroom she covered for Bernie in, she’s surprised to see Mo tidying away some French textbooks.

“Is this not Bernie’s classroom?” She asks.

“Bernie? Nah. She’s having to hop about a bit at the moment but we’re looking to get her primarily assigned to LAN4 ready for next year’s timetabling. I think last period she was free so she should be in the office.”

Bernie is not in the office. Serena is still waiting when Derwood, the head of department and Mo’s husband, appears.

“Everything okay Serena?” He asks.

“Just looking for Bernie,” she says. As she says it the woman rounds the corner, hair rumpled but a beaming smile on her face.

“Hi everyone!” She grins.

“What’s got you so happy?” Serena asks curiously.

“Got asked to cover a Year 8 PE lesson. They were doing fitness in the sports hall so I decided to do the bleep test alongside them. Apparently their PE teachers don’t join in but I was curious to see just how well I could do. Tell you something, some of those teens are pretty good!”

Serena groans dramatically.

“Who actually enjoys covering PE so much they _join in?_ ” She shudders. “God, you’re ridiculous.”

“Good with my hands though,” Bernie winks, sidling past Serena and into the office. “You weren’t complaining at lunch.”

As Serena follows Bernie into the languages office, the door shutting behind them, Derwood looks at it bemusedly. There’s definitely something going on there.

-

“So, why languages rather than PE then?” Serena asks, taking a long drink of her coffee. Bernie finishes chewing her custard cream and considers her words carefully before replying.

“I didn’t leave the army on my terms. I, erm, I got medically discharged. I was involved in a, um, an explosion.” She goes quiet for a moment and Serena reaches out to stroke her hand comfortingly. “After I could walk unaided again and, um, things… I decided I wanted to get a degree. I’d never got one before, went straight into the army at eighteen.” She pauses. “Marcus wasn’t too happy about that. He’s my ex-husband. Said there was no point in me doing a degree at my age. He earned enough and we lived in his dead mother’s family home and he thought I should just become a housewife.”

“Bastard.” Serena interjects, raising a smile from Bernie.

“Quite. I agreed, for a while. But I got so bored. And it felt like he was taunting me. His degree’s in business something or other, his parents paid for him to be put through it so he could take over the family company. The only reason we ever got together was because our parents were friends. One Christmas when I was on leave, we were introduced and the wedding sort of just… Happened.” Bernie shrugs. “Anyway, I’d taken up learning languages again during the day. I found it helped me have some purpose and structure. One day he found a tab I’d left open on the internet for an Open University course in French.” She looks up, eyes shining. “I won’t repeat what he said to me but needless to say the resulting argument ended up in me moving out and filing for divorce.”

“So you divorced the rotten ex-husband and got a degree?” Serena asks.

“Not, uh. Not exactly.” Bernie says. “I spent a while really thinking things through and talking with the kids. Cam’s doing Medicine and Charlotte’s now graduated in Art History. They told me all about mature students they know and that there’s all kinds of different degrees out there. I started researching things and I also did some volunteering with a local youth centre. I realised that if I couldn’t be in the army, I still wanted to be part of a team. So I decided to be a languages teacher.”

Serena feels moved to tears by this story of the woman she previously knew so little about. Bernie takes a fortifying sip of her coffee before continuing.

“There’s this scheme. Troops to Teachers. They provide veterans with bursaries to train to teach in subjects where there’s a shortfall of teachers. Luckily modern languages is included. I got accepted for that and, well,” she spreads her arms out. “Here I am.”

Serena reaches forward to rub her hand across Bernie’s arm.

“I’m very glad you are here.”

The tension in the air is thick and Serena feels the need to break it.

“I’m also glad you’re well-rid of that ex-husband of yours.”

“Ha! Me too.” Bernie smiles and reaches out her fluorescent FELIZ NAVIDAD cup to clink it with Serena’s. “Here’s to never being tied down by a man ever again!”

They’re disturbed from any further conversation by the cleaner who meekly pushes open the door and asks if they can vacuum the office. Apologising profusely, Bernie thanks them and grabs her things. Bidding goodbye to Serena as they go their separate ways, she leaves the History teacher’s head filled even more with _what if, possibly, maybe, hopefully…_

-

Serena first hears the whispers during a form session. She can’t pick much out but she knows it’s not complimentary.

“Liam!” She barks, pausing reading out the notices. “Would you care to share with everyone what you’re whispering to Matthew about?”

“Oh, um. No, miss.” The boy says.

“Why ever not? Could it be that it isn’t appropriate?” She raises an eyebrow dangerously.

“No, miss.”

“Well I suggest you be quiet and think about what you say before I put you in detention. Do I make myself clear?”

The boy nods and Serena turns back to reading out the information about sports clubs and extracurricular orchestra times.

-

Serena lingers in her classroom. It’s Friday afternoon and whilst not being officially confirmed, she and Bernie have spent every Friday for the last half term sharing coffee and custard creams. The clock ticks on and, when it reaches fifteen minutes after the final bell, she gathers her things and makes her way upstairs to the languages department.

She’s just heading along the corridor when she bumps into Mo.

“Serena! I was just coming to find you.”

“Oh?” Serena’s heart beat rises.

“Yeah, message from Bernie. She says she’s sorry to miss your catch-up but she really wasn’t feeling it.” Mo places a hand on Serena’s arm and lowers her voice. “Derwood sent her straight home. She was pretty cut up about it. Needless to say the matter’s been referred to Guy and Henrik.”

“What’s happened?” Surely Bernie can’t have been sacked? Or be facing a disciplinary from the head and deputy?

“Oh, haven’t you heard? She was teaching a GCSE French class covering the vocab around relationships and told the class off for sniggering when Jamie Adams asked how he’d say he has a boyfriend. Next thing she discovers after break that some of them had been passing notes around which were both homophobic and really rude about her.”

“Some of them are such…” Serena takes a deep breath and tries not to swear.

“I know, right?” Mo says. “Anyway, maybe you should go round this weekend? See how she is.”

“I’d love to but I don’t actually know her address.” Serena says sadly. Mo looks shocked.

“Really? I thought… Actually, never mind. I think Derwood has it written down somewhere, he dropped off some things for her before she started at the school.”

-

Approaching lunchtime on Saturday, Serena presses the doorbell on a smart terraced house in a suburb of Holby City. She wishes she could fiddle with her necklace to take away some of the anxiety she’s feeling but her hands are full. In her left she holds a takeout tray which contains two coffees from a local café. In her right she has a paper bag containing a foil-wrapped bacon sandwich. In her right hand is also a small bunch of flowers because flowers always make Serena feel better. But now she’s wondering if maybe this is a step too far, if Bernie will read too much into the gesture. Wonders if she _wants_ Bernie to read more into the gesture than it being a mere gift for a friend.

What feels an eternity later the door opens to reveal a rather dishevelled looking Bernie. She’s wearing some leggings and a long army T-shirt and her hair looks even more wild than usual. Her shock at seeing Serena on her doorstep is apparent but she quickly recovers and gestures for the History teacher to come inside.

Offering her gifts, Serena smiles softly.

“I brought brunch. And flowers.”

Bernie takes the flowers tentatively, as if she’s unused to receiving such gifts.

“Thank you Serena, that’s really thoughtful.”

-

They’re settled on the sofa in the minimalist living room. Bernie has had a shower whilst Serena arranged the flowers (in a mug somehow more garish than the FELIZ NAVIDAD monstrosity because apparently the woman owns no vases) and now they’re sat in companionable silence, Bernie practically inhaling the bacon sandwich as Serena sips at her coffee. When she’s finished, Bernie takes a deep breath and steels herself.

“I take it you’ve heard?”

“I heard from Mo that some of your GCSE class were being homophobic and had passed around notes which were rude about you. I don’t need to hear any more if it’ll upset you, Bernie. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

Bernie looks at her with watery eyes.

“The thing is Serena… The notes were true. Sort of.” She sniffs. “They said I was, ah, uh, gay, amongst other things. But the me being, um…” She trails off, unable to say it. “Well, that’s a relatively new development for me.” She shakes her head. “That’s not true. I’ve always known that perhaps I wasn’t, um, happy with Marcus. And I’ve always noticed nice women. Teachers when I was at school, women in shops, colleagues-” she pauses, looking away. “But I’ve never actually said it. Not properly. When I was at uni I was going to join the LGBT society but I chickened out. In the end I did meet another, um, lesbian. Alex. She was a mature student too, studying Biology. She did try to initiate things with me but I just, I couldn’t commit to her. Part of me didn’t want to continue with something which was never going to be a long-term thing.”

Serena nods understandingly and reaches out to rub a comforting hand on Bernie’s arm.

“Anyway,” Bernie continues. “I’ve been getting better at, um, embracing it. Not being ashamed of it. But hearing what they were saying about Jamie and seeing the notes they left behind after class brought back all the things I’d grown up with. All the things people said about people who didn’t love in the way society expected them to. And it made me feel like I was wrong all over again.”

Bernie looks away, clearly trying to gather herself after sharing so much. Serena’s heart is filled with care towards the other woman.

“Kids can be cruel,” Serena agrees. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned as a teacher it’s that there’s always kids who will bully others. But sometimes I think it’s more to do with the views imposed on them and the media they consume. It’s our job to help broaden their horizons and show them that discrimination of any kind is wrong. You did the right thing, sticking up for Jamie.”

Bernie smiles at her and Serena feels the need to share her own story.

“Back when I was an NQT, I suffered from Depression. I suppose I still do, in a way mental health problems never go away, do they? But I can manage it now. Anyway, I was freshly qualified and eager to inspire young minds but I also had a husband who was unfaithful and a drunk but who I did love, in a way. And I wanted a baby.” She sighs. “I was working myself to the ground and not looking after myself. I was in a really dark place but pretending to be strong. I had a reputation for being a bit of a dragon and it made some of the kids say cruel things about me. I suspect some of the other staff did too. Anyway, in the end my GP prescribed me anti-depressants and I had to take time off. That turned into me getting pregnant with Elinor and a short bout of maternity leave. When I was ready to return, I couldn’t go back to the school I was at. Too many demons. So I did supply for a while until I found a school I liked. And here I am today.”

“I thought Holby City Academy was a fairly new school?” Bernie says.

“Oh it is. But it was formed due to the merging of two smaller secondary schools. I taught at Wyvern Road Secondary.”

“I see.” Bernie says, before reaching out to gently thread her fingers through Serena’s.

“Thank you for sharing that with me, Serena. It means a lot.”

-

They end up spending the rest of Saturday together. They go into Holby for a farmer’s market Serena had wanted to attend and wander round, buying fresh meat and vegetables and admiring the little artisan craft stalls. It’s the nicest day Bernie has spent in Holby since she started teaching. They’re just heading back towards the local pay and display car park when they’re accosted by a woman with the blondest hair and the whitest teeth Bernie has ever seen.

“Serena darling!” The woman cries, enveloping the history teacher in a cloud of designer perfume. “How are you?”

“Good thank you, Sian. And yourself?”

“Loving life as much as always!” The woman beams. “FYI, there might be a position coming up on the SLT at Holby Grammar, I can’t say you’re guaranteed it but I know I’d love to share an office with you,” the woman smiles. Bernie feels her heart stop. Serena might be leaving?

“Oh, I don’t know Sian,” Serena says. “I don’t know if it’s for me.”

“But darling!” Sian sounds scandalised. “You’re _made_ for educational leadership. The only reason you’re not currently deputy head of Holby City Academy is because Guy Self has most of the governors up his arse and eating out of the palm of his hand. Speaking of…” Sian trails off, looking back towards the market. “When he appears, allow me to introduce you to Giancarlo. He’s one of Holby City Grammar’s latest benefactors and I have to say, sometimes it is rather nice to have someone eating out your-”

“Yes thank you Sian, we get the picture.” Serena holds a hand up to indicate she’d rather hear no more about her friend’s exploits with her latest gentleman. The use of ‘we’ turns the focus of Serena’s glamourous friend to Bernie, who feels a little shabby under the woman’s intense scrutiny.

“And just who is this, Serena?” Sian says, her voice filled with interest.

“This is Bernie, an NQT at Holby City Academy. Bernie, this is Sian Kors, she’s now assistant head at Holby City Grammar School. Bernie, Sian. Sian, Bernie.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bernie says carefully, offering a handshake to the woman opposite them.

“NQT?” Sian says. “I know you’ve got a body most of us can only dream of but even I can see you’re a little older than the usual NQT.”

“Yes, I’ve retrained since leaving the army.” Bernie responds. Opposite her, Sian’s eyes glitter.

“Oh Se _rena_! Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known you liked a uniformed officer I could have set you up with some _casual acquaintances_ years ago.”

Serena splutters and Bernie’s mind short-circuits. Undeterred, Sian continues.

“Saying that, Fleur will be mightily upset.”

“Fleur Fanshaw?” Bernie says, confused. “The head of English?”

“Oh yes,” Sian explains. “The delightful Ms Fanshawe has had her sights set on Serena since that time, oh, a decade ago now, when the three of us went out and Serena Ballerina here got so drunk she decided to give one bar full of people a tabletop dance in what I recall being a very nice lace bra.”

“SIAN!” Serena squawks, face turning beetroot. Bernie tries not to imagine Serena in a lacy bra. Fails spectacularly.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure Bernie here won’t tell, will you darling?” Sian is distracted by a tanned man in an open-necked shirt making his way towards them. “Oh there’s Giancarlo! Must be off, ciao Serena! Look after her for me, won’t you, Bernie?”

As Sian disappears off in all of her medically enhanced glory, Bernie turns to look at Serena who is still looking very flushed.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yes, yes. Sian’s just… A lot. Amazing friend and fantastic teacher but sometimes she gets a little carried away with herself.” Serena gives herself a little shake and points in the direction of the car park. “Anyway, shall we head off?”

-

They dawdle outside Bernie’s house, soaking up the last of the autumnal sunshine by making small talk, neither keen to leave the presence of the other.

“I’ve really enjoyed today,” Bernie says softly.

“So have I,” Serena replies. “Look, Bernie, not to presume but, well, would you like to do this again sometime? Silly to keep meeting up after school all the time. Next time you need a caffeine shot and a chat, you could just call me…” She trails off, the implication hanging thick in the air, more obvious than some of the ‘hidden’ messages in the historical cartoons her GCSE students study.

“I’d like that,” Bernie says, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “Here, add your number and I’ll call you so you have mine.”

After tapping in the digits, Serena shivers in the brisk air.

“Go on, go home, you’ll freeze.” Bernie says kindly. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“See you on Monday,” Serena responds.

She drives home with a contented smile on her face.

-

Bernie walks into the whole school staff meeting on Monday morning to see Fleur Fanshawe leaning on the edge of the table where Serena is sat.

“Monday morning you sure look fine…” The head of English is singing to Serena. Bernie feels a knot form in her stomach, remembering what Sian said over the weekend. Serena laughs in response, her head thrown back in joy and it’s one of the most beautiful things Bernie has ever seen. As she looks up, Serena notices Bernie stood frozen in the doorway and her lips tip up into what is somehow an even happier expression, her eyes shining warmly.

“Bernie!” She waves at her so Bernie takes this as an invitation to walk over. Fleur looks her up and down.

“Nice outfit, Ms Wolfe.”

“Um, thanks.” Bernie responds, tugging at her shirt sleeves, her eyes drawn to Serena who looks particularly lovely, a vision in a silky cobalt blouse. “Hello you,” she smiles.

“Hello yourself,” Serena responds, eyes sparkling.

At the front of the room, Henrik Hanssen clears his throat pointedly. Serena giggles.

“Off you go, don’t want you getting me in trouble with the head, you terrible influence, you.”

Bernie simply winks and walks over to sit with the rest of the languages department, feeling ready to face a new week and whatever insolent students come with it.

-

Whenever they get the chance (which is less often than they’d like, with the ever-increasing piles of marking and mock assessments and GCSE revision classes) they go for coffee or lunch and once they drive out of Holby to a farm shop where they eat freshly made meat and potato pies and buy the most delicious cakes they’ve ever tasted.

They still try to make time to spend the occasional breaktime or Friday afternoon sharing coffee and a packet of custard creams. It’s these moments they cherish, when they cast away thoughts of target grades and exam boards to just spend time with one another.

-

Serena is sat working in the school library one day. She’s got a free period and the library is quieter than the History office is (Arthur’s got a Year 8 class doing group re-enactments of ancient battle scenes in the room next door). The peace is disturbed by the door opening and thirty over-eager Year 7s spilling into the space.

Sacha, the school librarian, shushes them gently and gestures to where Serena is working. After the last of the class enter, the teacher chaperoning them arrives and it’s none other than Bernie Wolfe, who must be providing cover for an English class. Serena files away in her mind the revelation that they must both usually have a free period at this time. Perhaps that piece of information might come in handy in the future…

Bernie instructs the Year 7s that they’re to choose a book and read silently for an hour, or speak to Mr Levy if they’d like to complete some of the quizzes linked to the Accelerated Reader programme which the school offers. Seeing Serena in the corner, Bernie drops her the hint of a wink before following the students amongst the shelves to ensure they’re behaving.

When all is quiet again, Bernie returns and sits directly in Serena’s line of vision and very deliberately opens a book she has selected, angling the cover so Serena can see it. It’s a non-fiction book about the Suffragettes, one of the texts Serena recommends her classes read in their spare time if they’re interested. Serena catches the barest hint of a smile in the language teacher’s eyes above the top of the book and shakes her head fondly. Ridiculous woman.

-

Serena has returned to her planning when her phone screen lights up with a message beside her.

‘Interesting topic this… Think I’m beginning to get the suffraGIST of it…’

Serena bites back a snort and looks over to where Bernie Wolfe is the picture of innocence, book propped in front of her and for all the world looking like the perfect role model to her pupils. Rolling her eyes, Serena returns to her planning.

Ten minutes later, her phone lights up again.

‘Why is this time in the past not called Suffragistory?’

This time Serena doesn’t quite manage to stifle her response and ends up turning her sudden snort into a faux-sneeze, lest she rouse the suspicions of Sacha or (even worse) the pupils. Bernie Wolfe is still the picture of innocence but there’s a cheeky smile threatening to break across her face. Serena feels a little bit naughty, like she’s passing notes with the cool girl at the back of the class rather than doing her sums. It’s a fizzing kind of feeling in her bones which she has never felt with anyone before, not even her closest friends. Only Bernie has ever made her feel this way. Serena tries not to spend too much time dwelling on the fact.

Luckily, soon after Bernie begins to round up the Year 7s so they can leave the library and head to their next lesson before the bell goes. Serena packs her things too and leaves the library through the other door, taking the shortcut back along the corridor and down the stairs to the History department.

-

“You’re a bad influence.” Serena says to Bernie as the woman nudges open Serena’s classroom door with her hip, two steaming mugs of coffee in her hands.

“Me? I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Bernie fires back, placing Serena’s cup on the desk and taking a hearty drink from her own. The garish cactus only seems to have got brighter with age, much to Serena’s disgust.

“I’ll put you in detention one of these days if you’re not careful,” Serena says instead, one eyebrow rising playfully.

“Oh really?” Bernie leans forward, giving Serena an excellent view of her collarbones. “And what would my punishment be, exactly?”

Serena opens and shuts her mouth, caught in the trap she laid. Recovering quickly, she leans forwards herself and makes eye contact with the languages teacher.

“You’d just have to wait and find out, wouldn’t you? It depends on how naughty you’d been.”

Before Bernie can respond, Raf walks obliviously into the room, a stack of reference books in his arms.

“Thanks Serena, I’ll just pop these back in the cupboard. Oh – hi Bernie,” he nods at her politely before opening the cupboard at the back of the room and putting the books back. The moment lost, Bernie picks up her mug and rises.

“Hi Raf. Anyway, much to do. See you around, Serena.” As she reaches the door she turns back, glancing at Raf in the corner. “Don’t be afraid to order those troublemakers into detention, now.” With a wink and a flash of the ever-gaudy FELIZ NAVIDAD on her ridiculous mug, the languages teacher leaves.

“Some of the wee little rascals causing you trouble, Serena?” Raf asks. Serena looks at him.

“Something like that, yes.”

-

Serena groans as she settles in one of the comfy staffroom chairs. Fleur, Raf and Bernie look at her bemusedly.

“Everything okay?” Raf asks.

“I’ve left my mug back in the office,” Serena whines. “It’s a case of face going back out there where another student may intercept me about their History homework or hiding here without any caffeine.”

“Don’t worry,” Bernie interrupts. “I’ve got a spare mug in here. I’ll go and brew up now for us.”

Serena watches the woman head over to the kettle with no small amount of relief singing through her veins. Opposite her, Fleur rolls her eyes.

“Earth to Serena, stop heart-eyesing the Werewolfe for just two minutes if you please!”

Serena turns around with a warning glare at Fleur and Raf, who simply smiles knowingly into his drink.

Bernie returns and holds out a mug to Serena. Serena stares at it for long moments before reaching out to accept it. Slowly, she lifts it to her mouth and sips. Opposite her, Fleur bites back a laugh at the image of Serena Campbell using an obscenely bright mug decorated with a Santa-hat wearing cactus and the phrase FELIZ NAVIDAD.

“Bernie?” Serena asks, eyeing the mug the languages teacher is now using with distaste. It’s decorated with a field, a Friesian cow wearing a beret and the phrase MOO LA LA!.

“Yes?” Bernie responds.

“Do you own _any_ nice mugs?”

“Of course I do!”

“Where then? Because these two are certainly, um, interesting. And as for that ghastly one covered in rainbow-patterned parrots you have in your house…” Serena trails off as Fleur’s face lights up with the smuggest grin Serena has ever seen now she has the knowledge that Serena has been to Bernie’s house. She silently curses herself for forgetting she and Bernie had company. Bernie, unaware, acts offended.

“Honestly Campbell, here you are offending my mugs after I slave away making you a coffee. A girl could be offended, you know.” She winks to take the sting out of her words and rises. “Anyhow, some of us have a lunchtime French spelling bee session to run. Au revoir, everyone.”

Before she can face the dual interrogations of both Raf and Fleur, Serena also rises.

“Actually, I’ve got a stack of marking I’d best be getting on with too. Bye, both of you.”

It’s only when she arrives back in her classroom that she realises she’s still drinking out of the ghastly cactus mug. Strangely though, drinking from it feels rather comforting…

-

Christmas approaches in a whirlwind of music shows and drama productions and charity fundraising. The final day of term is a non-uniform day where staff and students alike are invited to wear festive attire for their Christmas parties. The school closes at midday and Serena is glad, the exhaustion of a long term catching up with her.

The humanities department exchange their Secret Santa gifts, Serena feeling smug when geography teacher Abi Tate coos excitedly over the shoe-shaped stud earrings Serena bought her. Serena herself beams at the ‘Feminist Knitting Kit’ which someone (she suspects Raf) has bought her. The whole of the wider humanities department makes their way to the school canteen together, ready for the staff Christmas dinner and party in the afternoon. Before they go, Serena grabs a small parcel off her desk and slips it into her shoulder bag.

-

“Serena! Nice hat,” Bernie beams as she greets Serena in the canteen.

“Thank you.” Serena pulls the Santa hat off her head and looks at the languages teacher’s Christmas jumper: a navy-blue number with three birds on the front and the phrase _trois poules fran_ _çaises_ embroidered underneath. “I do believe, Ms Wolfe, that that jumper is what the children would refer to as you being ‘on brand’.”

Bernie laughs.

“Oh Ms Campbell, look at you being all cool and down with it.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms Wolfe. Speaking of, merry Christmas.” Handing Bernie the box she’d packed earlier, Serena can’t help but feel her heart thrum at the childish expression of delight on the ex-soldier’s face.

“I got you something too, Serena.” Bernie says, dashing to where her coat is and returning with a gift bag. “Open it now.”

“Now?” Serena says.

“Yes, please Serena!” Bernie pouts adorably and Serena acquiesces. Pulling open the back and removing the tissue paper she freezes at what she sees before bursting into laughter. Extracting the awful FELIZ NAVIDAD mug from the tissue paper, she shakes her head and narrows her eyes playfully at Bernie.

“Luckily for you, I’m willing to exchange such a delightful mug for this instead,” Bernie holds out a smaller wrapped box which Serena is almost certain contains jewellery. Smiling happily, Serena hands the mug back to its rightful owner.

“I rather think that’s a fair exchange,” she winks. “Now come on, Ms Wolfe, let’s find Fleur and the Shiraz before they serve the food.”

-

After the formal Christmas dinner, the wine flows freely amongst the staff at Holby City Academy. The younger staff take to the dance floor alongside a pleasantly tipsy Mo and Mr T. In a dark corner as she returns from the toilets, Serena could swear she sees PE teacher Fletch kissing the notoriously acerbic Head of Science Jac Naylor. Serena herself has no time to dwell on the matter because Fleur pulls her into a very uncoordinated rendition of the Macarena, Bernie laughing hysterically from the side-lines.

By early evening, many of the staff head off, calling cabs to take them home. Feeling sleepy, Serena waves farewell at Fleur and staggers towards the exit. Bernie, who is slightly steadier on her feet, follows behind. A drizzle has begun to fall so they’re waiting in the doorway of the school when Serena notices it.

“Bernie,” she whispers not very quietly.

“Mm?” Bernie asks.

“Bernie,” Serena tugs on the ex-soldier’s sleeve and points upwards. “Look.”

Bernie does look and sees the mistletoe which some staff member has clearly hung in the doorway after the pupils all headed home. A quick glance round ensures nobody can see so Bernie dips her head and presses her lips to Serena’s quickly. The History teacher makes a delighted gasp and is about to respond some more when the toot of a taxi horn outside draws her attention away. Pulling her bag onto her shoulder, Serena strokes a hand clumsily down Bernie’s cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Bernie,” she says, staggering towards the car.

-

Serena spends the majority of the Christmas holidays thinking about her almost-kiss with Bernie. From what her sober mind can fill in, she and Bernie shared a brief peck which very nearly turned into more. All of the _what ifs_ and _maybes_ in Serena’s head make themselves known, forcing her to think about just how much she values Bernie Wolfe. Just how she’d feel if maybe, just maybe, Bernie Wolfe more than liked her back.

On Christmas Day, Serena unwraps a delicate pair of earrings. Purple stones marbled through with white and green. Serena pauses. The colours of the Suffragette movement. Bernie didn’t just listen. Bernie remembered.

-

Bernie laughs loudly when she opens her gift from Serena. When her honks subside, she shakes her head fondly at the gift. Opposite her, Cameron and Charlotte raise their heads inquisitively so she holds out the item for them to inspect.

It’s a mug which someone has clearly had specially made. It contains a rather tasteful image of a wolf alongside an italicised script in navy blue which details translations of the word ‘wolf’ in various languages all around the edge of the cup. Cam spies a folded-up note inside the cup and pulls it out.

“It’s time to make your awful mug monstrosities history… S,” Cameron pauses, “followed by a little kiss.”

Bernie’s head snaps up and her cheeks flush. Cam shares a pointed glance with his sister. Interesting.

“So, who’s S?” He asks, trying to make his voice as innocent as possible.

“Serena,” Bernie’s voice softens when she says the name. “She’s a History teacher at school and isn’t a fan of my, um, more colourful mugs.”

Charlotte laughs loudly.

“Please tell me you don’t use the cactus one I got you as a joke the other Christmas round school?”

“Of course I do, it was a gift from you!” Bernie replies. Charlotte hoots.

“It’s AWFUL, Mum! Serena probably needs sunglasses every time she looks at you!”

“Maybe she needs them anyway because she’s dazzled by Mum’s beauty,” Cam waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “She did put a little kiss on her note,” he pauses when he notices his Mum blushing again. “Wait… _Is_ Serena your, y’know…”

“Don’t be silly, Cameron. She’s a… A colleague, a friend… Nothing more.” Her voice trails off.

“But you’d like her to be?” Charlie’s question is said gently. Bernie nods slowly, mind supplying images of the moment she and Serena almost kissed before the holidays.

“But it’s fine. We can just be friends. She’s a great teacher, I can learn lots from her.”

Sensing that their Mum might not want to talk about the matter any further, Cameron and Charlotte begin to show her some of the gifts they’ve received from their friends. But, in the backs of both of their minds, they’re already hoping that this Serena is someone truly special.

-

All too soon January begins and school returns. They spend the first Monday of term doing staff-only training exercises, which are only mildly painful (Serena can still remember the ‘team bonding’ session they were forced to do two years ago and, in terms of awful things to force teachers to do, nothing quite beats an overly chipper ‘drama and group emotions facilitator’ asking you and your colleagues to pretend as a team to be items in a Full English breakfast).

At the end of the first full day of teaching, Bernie brings two mugs (including the new, more tasteful wolf mug) of coffee to Serena’s classroom, which they sip whilst sharing custard creams and tales of their classes so far. The holidays might have been relaxing, but Serena would trade them all away in a heartbeat if she got to finish every day like this, with Bernie.

-

‘Bored of mocks :(’

Serena looks down at the text and chuckles, eyeing her own stack of marking with distaste.

‘How about if we both get them finished by midday tomorrow, we go for a Sunday afternoon trip out somewhere?’ Serena responds. She says it for herself more than anything, knowing that the enticement of spending time with Bernie, especially time away from work, will be all the motivation she needs to focus on marking thirty GCSE essays about the effectiveness of the Treaty of Versailles.

‘Challenge accepted Campbell. Let’s do this!’

-

At precisely 7am on Sunday morning Serena is woken up by a text. It’s a photo of a completed stack of marking with a comment below it.

‘Ready when you are!’

Groaning, Serena pulls herself out of bed and down towards the kettle, tapping out a reply as she goes.

‘Please tell me you got some sleep? X’

‘Of course I did. Was up at 5am to finish them before the sun rose! Time for a quick run now I think to clear away the cobwebs! X’

Serena only notices that she sent a kiss in her tired state when she sees Bernie has sent one back. Her stomach fills with butterflies. Once again, her head is filled with _what ifs._ Buttering her toast as it pops up from the toaster, Serena heads to her study. The sooner she finishes these exam scripts, the sooner she can be with Bernie.

-

In the end Serena finishes just before lunch, sends Bernie a triumphant message and tries not to fret over what to wear when Bernie offers to pick her up in half an hour. In the end she opts for a soft woollen jumper with some casual jeans and boots. Swipes a little more make-up across her features than she usually would whilst telling herself very firmly that this is not a date.

She still tells herself it’s not a date when Bernie almost falls through her door thirty-five minutes later, apologising for being late whilst thrusting a bunch of tulips into Serena’s arms. Bernie looks to have dressed up a little too. There’s mascara on her lashes and a _Help For Heroes_ pin badge positioned carefully in the lapel of her coat. As soon as Serena has arranged her flowers they’re off, Bernie being coy about their destination. With anyone else, Serena would be irritated by such secrecy. With Bernie, she finds it all too charming.

-

Bernie parks the car in a small car park surrounded by trees. Sensing Serena’s hesitation, she looks at her worriedly.

“Is everything okay?”

“Bernie… This looks like the sort of car park I’d get murdered in.”

“It is rather secluded but I promise you I have no ulterior motives,” Bernie says. “Well, just the one.” Serena looks at her sharply and Bernie places her hands on her shoulders, smoothing them across the fabric of her coat in what she hopes is a soothing manner. “There’s a short walk through the woodland and then we’re on a nature trail,” Bernie says. “Not an awful one, promise!” She hastens to add. “Otherwise I’d have told you to wear hiking boots. This one is aimed at families. I’ve been on runs here before and I, um, well I wanted to bring you here.”

Serena’s features soften and she nods.

“Okay then. Lead the way, soldier.”

-

There’s a little hut selling hot drinks and snacks when they’re through the woodland and Serena is very much perked up by the hot chocolate which Bernie buys her. Slipping an arm through Bernie’s, she begins to enjoy their afternoon walk in the cold winter sun. After a little while of walking, Bernie stops and pulls a leaflet out of the pocket of her jeans. Opening it in the wind is a little difficult but Serena steadies the paper and gasps when she reads it.

“Oh, Bernie!” She breathes. “The Holby City Local History Trails. What a wonderful walk to take me on.”

Bernie smiles. It’s a soft smile which lights up her whole face, like she’s pleased with herself for pleasing Serena. Nodding down at the leaflet she gestures ahead of them.

“Over here should be some stones which mark an old farming cottage. Then further along there’s a monument honouring those fallen in the wars. On another day, perhaps in summer, we can do some of the steeper trails too, if you like.”

“I do like,” Serena beams up at Bernie, warmed by more than just the hot chocolate. “Thank you, Bernie.”

-

That night, Serena lies in bed telling herself it wasn’t a date. Even if Bernie bought her flowers and hot chocolate and planned the perfect trip. It doesn’t mean it was a date. It doesn’t mean anything that Serena is now trying to plan an equally perfect day out for Bernie. Right?

-

The next few weekends are filled with weekend walks and coffee trips and, once, Bernie spending a relaxing afternoon in Serena’s house as they sat at opposite ends of the kitchen table and did their planning. It’s a level of domesticity and quiet which Serena hadn’t realised she was craving until she had it, right here in her kitchen. It is, in short, everything.

-

Serena enters the staffroom and flops down into a chair with a groan, only pausing to smile as familiar hands pass her a mug (her suffragette one, thank goodness) filled with freshly brewed coffee.

“Everything alright, Serena?” Raf asks from opposite her.

“I hate it when Valentine’s Day is a school day.” Serena growls. Bernie has perched herself on the arm of Serena’s chair and laughs.

“I hadn’t realised just how bad it could be! But all morning all I’ve had is giggling teenagers and _oh miss have you had a Valentine miss did you know JOSH got FOUR Valentines miss?_ ” Bernie’s high-pitched mock teen voice sends the rest of the staff into peals of laughter. Bernie shakes her head with resignation. “I just want to teach them how to talk about shops on the high street in French!”

“But _have_ you had a Valentine, Werewolfe?” Fleur smirks from where she’s sat next to Raf. Bernie flushes.

“Not yet. Ahem. Not that I’m expecting one!” She adds hastily. The rest of the staff share knowing glances as they see both History and languages teacher glance at one another, seemingly oblivious to one another’s attraction.

“And how about you, Ms Campbell?” Fleur winks. “Any secret mail in your pigeon hole?”

“As if!” Raf chuckles. “Every member of staff here knows that Serena doesn’t date colleagues. I can still remember how scared Arthur looked when Morven was doing her teacher training in the Biology department and Serena went on a rant in a staff meeting about interpersonal relationships between staff!”

“Hey, we’re married now though!” Arthur beams happily, always joyful when he talks about his wife. Serena laughs at the memory and turns to look at Bernie, wanting to share the memory with her. But Bernie looks like she’s just been kicked, her eyes are sad and she’s not doing the best job of hiding that she’s hurt. She smiles a small, quick, forced smile and then stands.

“Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Books to mark, pupils to help. Bye, everyone.”

As the languages teacher almost sprints out of the staffroom, Serena wonders just what has upset her friend so much.

-

Back in the languages office, a not-so-neatly wrapped bottle of wine is placed back into someone’s bag, ready to be taken home and hidden at the back of a cupboard where it can’t be a reminder of what a silly fool in love someone has been.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise more will come soon - shout-out to both @spilled_notes and @Persiflage who have helped me to keep writing this thing instead of hitting blocks at certain parts.


End file.
